Seedlings and Kisses
by zaphyrus of the moon
Summary: Childhood memories! Hope you like it!


I don't own Grand Chase

* * *

We have a house, 22 people live in that house, mama, papa, me, my siblings, though papa said they're not really my siblings. But in a way they are, he said, yes he did. I didn't understand, but mama said we should love them, and so I did, at least I tried. Yes, all 22 of us, living in a big, old house. 22 is a big number.

"Come back here you!"

"Waaa! No, no, no!"

It's little Sofi, being chased by big Ross like a bandit on a peasant. Little Sofi is holding a ball and Ross is mad. Little Sofi is four years old, and is always close to me. Ross is seven, the same age as me.

"Lass, Lass," Sofi got held of my trousers, held it tight. She burried her face on me.

"What is it?" I asked her.

But she just sobs. I looked at Ross. He's mad, I can tell, and right now he's looking at me, as if he's going to punch me. He's a big person. It would hurt if he punched me.

Then, Ross took a few steps back, still looking at me. His face was no longer mad.

"That's my ball." He said, "It's mine."

"Can we borrow it for a while?" I ask him.

"Hmp!" I heard him say. Then he stomped away. But he didn't look mad. He's just mad when he wants to be, when he knows he can be. But normally he's a good person.

Little Sofi is still sobbing. I stroke her fine, gold hair and say, "You don't take stuff that doesn't belong to you, no you don't." she looks up at me, and sniffs. I smiled at her, and rubbed away the tears. I saw a portrait of an angel once in a museum. It looked just like Sofi.

"I don't?"

"No you don't."

Then we heard the door creak open. I heard papa's footsteps on the wooden floor. Everyone became excited and ran to the living room.

Papa was standing in the middle when everyone arrived. We took our places in a straight line as papa made a slow walk infront of us. Everyone was trying to hold their giggles as papa acted like an imperial soldier.

"Report." He said, looking at me. His voice sounded as big and low as before.

"The chores have all been completed, sir. All took their orders promptly, yes they did."

He looked at mama who was standing by the kitchen screen, and she nodded. Mama always enjoyed watching this scene. I can tell she was smiling. I wish I could see her, but right now, I had to stand straight and not look anywhere.

"Good." Papa remarked. He looked at each one, all the while trying to hide the smile that was growing on his face as he moves from child to child.

"Sofi," he stopped infront of her. Sofi was still holding the ball close to her chest. Papa came down to her and whispered, "Have you been crying?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. Papa looked at Ross. He knew Ross was behind this. He always is. But Ross already looked sorry. Ross looked down, avoiding papa's gaze, and papa knew whatever it is have been dealt with.

"Very well," papa continued, "will you smile for papa, then?" Sofi did, and papa kissed her forehead.

"Good," he said, "as for the rest of you," papa was making his way as far from us as possible. He knew what was coming next, so did everyone else. Mama was already giggling as she watched him. Every child was expectant.

"Dismiss."

At that, all twenty of us pounced on him, each grabbing a body part. I got papa's right leg this time, and so did Anne. Last night, I got his neck. We held on as papa tried to get up, falling instead on the huge mattress sprawled in the living room. Mama places it there every evening for this occasion.

"Ak!" everyone was laughing. Soon after, mama clapped her hands and it took all our attention. Everyone got up, formed a line again, and each gave papa a kiss on his cheek before running to mama where the washing shall begin. I was the last in line. Papa rouse up, with Sofi still holding on to his neck. He took her and carried he as he walked towards the kitchen. I ran to him and held on to his strong left hand.

"Papa," I said, "tomorrow's Sunday!"

"I know," he said, then looked down at me. I was smiling expectantly at him. He knew what I was thinking.

"Very well, you may come along."

"Yes, yes, yes!" I yelled happily. I gave him my share of kiss, and came running towards my waiting mother.

"Marks?"

"Yes, I have something he could use."

"That's nice, dear. Do you have to bring Lass along?"

"The kid's dying to go to the forest. And it'll be good for him to meet our friend Marks."

"Alright then, but the tavern is no place for children."

"And so we won't be long. Hey, where's your share of kiss?"

* * *

"Really, Luther, I can't…"

"I insist, Marks. Your taxes are eating you up and the way you stack people's tab, you have no means of paying."

"Dear me, but this is too much."

"Little Arme needs education, does she not? Aspiring to be a mage, now that's rare among kids these days."

The thief handed Luther a bag, heavy and making funny noises. It was a bag full of small bars of gold, gems carved into perfection and a few other unrefined crystals.

"Luther, you're just too kind. Let me at least treat you to lunch."

"Sounds good. Oh, by the way, this is my son, Lass." the thief motioned for his son, who was engrossed in all the paintings and artifacts hanging on the walls of the tavern. "Lass, this is Sir Marks Focoult, a most trusted friend of the family. He's a Kanavan knight."

Lass looked up at his father. It meant that this fellow is a good guy. He made a slight bow.

"How do you do, Sir Marks?

"Quite well, young one, quite well. I see you have you're father's strong facial expression. I trust you wish to be strong as him?"

"Yes I do." Lass said, insisting on it with his loud voice. Marks chuckled, and patted the young boy on the head.

"Too early for that, Marks. Lass, I want you to stay here while I go buy some fruits for your mother."

"Yes, papa."

Luther made his way to the door, greeting some acquaintances while he does so. Little Lass never looked interested in anything, but he always is. He makes it a point to hide his feelings behind a blank expression. He never knew why. it was just his way of things. He was sitting on the tall stool chair, swaying his legs as he patiently waits for any changes. The whole tavern was cozy, fit for a good meal in any time of the day.

Then, he smelled something nice. Something new to his nose. He sniffed, closed his eyes, his head following the direction of the scent.

Marks smiled at the sight of him. He looked like a hound on a trail, he thought. He was busy drying some glasses when his daughter suddenly jumped out of nowhere and slammed a bowl in front of young Lass. He was amazed at the unaffected reaction.

Just then, something remarkable came into mind. The sight of his daughter, and a little thief. Arme was smiling widely at the boy, while he just kept looking at her with unchanged expression.

This will be interesting. Marks prayed Luther would take his time.

* * *

(1st person POV)

She must've thought I would be surprise. I'm never surprise, never, by anything, because I'm the fastest kid in town, yes I am! I am always on guard, as what papa says to me, always.

I looked at her, then at the bowl which almost spilled because of what she did. She was still smiling. I thought it was ridiculous for her to smile for no reason.

"Try it!"

She said. She talked like Sofi. Her voice was so tiny, like Sofi's.

"Papa said never to take anything from a stranger." I said, still looking at the white, thick substance in front of me. "Yes he did."

"What! I'm no stranger! Don't you know who I am? I am the best cook in town! Hah!"

She said, pounding on her chest. She still looked small. Why is everything about her so purple? I hate purple, the color is too bright.

"You're not!" I said, coldly.

Her face suddenly changed. "What did you say?"

"You're not the best cook, my mama is."

"Hmp!" I like the way her face suddenly turn red and become puffed like a silver bud. Ross used to pick some and blow and make them look like marbles for little Sofi and Anne to play with. It was fun.

"You haven't even tasted it yet!" she said. I could say she's mad. It felt good inside. I wished I could smile, I wish I wanted to. But I didn't.

I took a long good look at the stuff. The steam coming from it, it was the thing I smelled earlier. Ah, it smells so good. But I won't close my eyes, no, she'll think I like it, then she won't be upset, then she'll go away and cook for someone else.

"It could be poison."

"I'm not going to poison you!" she was waving her hand fast, like fanning something on me.

My heart was beating not like normal.

"I don't think I should eat it. Mama said if something doesn't look good then I shouldn't eat it, yes, she said that to me."

"Argh!"

She was faster than I thought. She suddenly grabbed the bowl with her chubby hands, and ran towards the door leading to the kitchen. She was gone before I knew it. I bowed my head, and thought a while. I realized it hurt inside. Should I apologize? Was I too mean? I don't want to be mean. But when I'm mean, people stay with me longer than they should. They spend time with me.

It hurt, but I just bowed my head, I didn't cry, even though she wasn't there anymore. Even though I made her go away which I didn't want to do.

Then the door opened again and out she came, holding the same huge bowl with her two hands. She looked so energetic. I know how that feels, I feel it when I run at my fastest. I felt my heart beat again. I was happy. Why was I happy? I can be mean to her again… but then she might go away for good.

"There!"

The color of the thick stuff was still white, but there was a smoky, orange liquid mixed to it, making it look the sky during a sunset. In the middle were dashes of white garlic. It was a pretty thing to see, and the smelled was still, ah, still filling my sense, yes, entering my nose and begging me to eat it… no…

"Papa won't pay for this." I said.

"On the house, then!" she said. She wasn't upset anymore. But I still like her cheeks. They were still red like silver buds. Do I like her cheeks? Cheeks aren't people, so I guess. I like silver buds, that's for sure. Silver seemed a stupid name to call it, since it's shaded with red… when nature is, mama said, at its fullest.

I was out of ideas. I took the spoon she placed beside the bowl, and hooked a good amount. The spoon was heavy because the soup was thick. Slowly I lifted it up, till it reached my mouth. The substance danced in my mouth so well. I felt my senses livening, like a fire filling me, except no pain of burns.

It tasted so good… sweet, sour, not spicy, and a little salty. I can taste no beef in it, only herbs.

I couldn't help it. I have to take another spoon full. But before I could lift it up, I saw her again. She was smiling now… smiling… her cheeks still red. Her hands were clasped on her chest, waiting for me to say something.

She was so pretty.

I dropped the spoon on the counter top and declared angrily,

"TOO SALTY!"

Her face immediately fell. For a while, she stood there, in front of me. Suddenly I saw tears trailing down her face like raindrops on a window.

I made her cry. I was mean. She's going to hate me. But she's still so pretty. It'll be good to hate me. She won't have to smile for me. I can't keep her smiling. She'll take the bowl, probably hit me, but I won't mind. She'll touch me, and I'll like it, even if it hurts. She'll run away to her papa, then I'll get scolded at home, but I won't be upset. I'll sleep tonight knowing I became mean to a pretty girl so that she'll hate me, and I'll just have to think about her without….

But she didn't do those things, no she didn't.

With her face damp she grabbed the bowl and ran again into the kitchen. I saw the tears fly in the air as she ran, like rain drops that splat on leaves. I can see how nice they looked, sparkly and looking so pure. No one else appreciates it like papa and I do. He said our eyes can see things more clearly even when they move fast.

I waited for sometime, hoping still for her to storm out of that kitchen door like a fish in a weak net. But then papa came, carrying a bag full of apples, cinnamons and mangoes. I can also smell freshly picked garnets from the eastern forest. I looked at papa, then at the kitchen. I didn't know why but I was feeling really bad…

Papa and sir Marks was talking when papa came to the counter and tapped my head. I didn't listen to what they were saying. It was adult talk. Sometimes they too much, and say too little. I was still looking at the kitchen door.

She's gone for good.

Papa tapped my shoulders and looked down on my face with a grin.

"Don't spoil your next meal. Wipe that stuff of your face."

I did so with my hand. I forgot I didn't have any sleve with this clothes mama made for me.

* * *

(X POV)

"So, about the latest tax exemption…"

Luther again began his conversation with the middle aged man. His son was lost in deep thought, and for a time he feared Lass would be dashing towards that kitchen door any minute. Its not like Lass would do extraordinary stuff like that, but he could, and comparing their speed, he could successfully.

Lass looked at the white substance on his hand. He licked it, remembering how it tasted and suddenly feeling sorry for not taking that second spoon-full. He looked at the door, then it swung open, with it the widening of his eyes with expectancy. But it was a fat lady with a yellow apron, holding a large tray with full meals steaming on it. He sighed.

On the conversation went between his father and Marks. He heard politic-talk, something the boy never grew to appreciate. For him, papa sounded most boring when he talked about stuff people need to be involved in order to understand.

BAM

Again, the girl slammed a bowl in front of him, again surprising him, and again rendering him un-affected. There seemed to be renewed spirit glowing from her face. He couldn't tell how or why, it just showed like that. The substance looked a lot thicker than usual, the way Lass thought he'd like it. But how did she know he liked it as such he has no clue.

It was the same good smelling soup, but somehow, Lass felt like its not the soup that's making it smell good, or making it taste good. He looked at the girl. She just stood there, again expectancy in her countenance.

But she wasn't smiling anymore, and Lass didn't feel good about that.

"Ahem…" she began, "…the chef wishes to apologize for not satisfying the costumer of his face."

"Um, honey, that's 'taste', not 'face'." Marks corrected in a whisper.

"Oh, ok, for not satisfying the costumer of his taste."

Her voice sounded good again, Lass thought, and it didn't even matter to him what she was saying. He didn't understand.

"You cried." Lass said.

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!"

"No, it was just steam getting into my eyes, that's all."

Lass felt so happy having this argument which he knows is pretty stupid. He wanted to smile, he wished he did, for her, but he felt she deserves something better.

"Nu-uh, you cried, yes you did!"

"I did not, I did not, I did not! Ugh! Just eat it, will you? And tell me how it taste. I'll prove to you I'm better than your mama."

No one's better than mama, but mama never cooked soup, so he really couldn't tell.

He took a long good look at the bowl, then realize that his father and Marks were beginning to end their conversation. But it didn't really matter.

Taking that spoon while waffing that wonderful aroma, he finally gave in. He knew it would be good, and he was disappointed.

"Well? Any more complaints?" the girl asked, after seeing the spoon leave his mouth.

He looked at her with his usual blank expression, then, as if he didn't hear anything, he took another spoon full, and another, and another, until the girl became impatient.

"Hey, come on, answer me…"

The spoon no longer helped. He took the bowl, big as it is, with both hands and gulped the whole stuff.

"Ah," was the satisfying sound he made while landing the bowl on the counter, completely empty.

"Lass, let's go, you're mother's waiting."

"Oh, but what about lunch? We have armored lobster today, with special seasoning I know you like." Marks tempted, but Luther would not be restraint. Anna would surely be cooking for them at home and the best way to enrage his wife is to waste food she prepared with her heart.

"Way to set for a trap, Marks, but some other day. Lass…"

"Yes papa!"

Little Lass jumped out of the chair and was about to catch to his walking father when he suddenly stopped. The image of the girl crying again affected him unlike before.

"Was it good, was it?" she asked excitedly, seeing as he had suddenly stopped.

Without even facing her, he answered "I'll say it's good, but I won't because something's missing."

"Oh?"

Lass saw his papa did it more than once to his mama, and he always thought it to be grossed. Of course he like mama doing it to him, but watching papa and mama do it… eww… but right now, he felt like doing it.

He jumped over the counter and kissed the surprised little girl… on the lips. It was a messy sight, Marks thought, but it was still cute. The girl didn't have time to react since after a few seconds Lass jumped away as quickly as he came.

"There, the soup was good. Sir Marks," Lass said, pointing at the man, "please promise me she is not to marry until I return."

Perhaps he didn't understand what he said, for the boy was already on the tail of his unwary father who was waving his good-byes to a few fellows even before Marks could make his ascent.

"Hey, I CHARGE EXTRA FOR THAT!" the girl with purple hair said, waving her arms frantically at the boy who was poking his tongue out at her, after realizing what was done to her.

"Hahaha! Looks like you have yourself a husband, Arme, hahaha!"

"Oh no, father, I don't his name! how could I charge him? Do you his name, father?"

"I do, but I'm pretty sure you'll have another chance to ask him yourself."

"Papa, papa, know what? I stole something today."

"Oh, you didn't steal anything from any of Marks' stuff, did you?"

"Mmmm…. Nope."

"That's a relief. Well, let's see it then."

"I can't, I don't have it."

"How did you steal it?"

"I just made sure nobody else takes it."

"Hmm… I'm a little confuse, son. So how come you didn't take it with you?"

"So that I could steal it for another day."

The grin on his face assured Luther that his son was in a state of self-satisfaction.

* * *

The END

Merry Christmas, all! God Bless!


End file.
